


Who Will Forgive Us?

by tinasnewt



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Burning, Canon Dialogue, Dark Queenie, F/M, Fire, Ghosts, Halloween, Horror, Mentions of Death, Murder, Paranormal, Rituals, Sacrifice, Slow Burn, Unfulfilled Love, Witchcraft, Witches, evil queenie, uhh i have NO CLUE what i just wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinasnewt/pseuds/tinasnewt
Summary: Nobody wants to go to the Goldstein residence. A house riddled with witchcraft and murder. But when Newt Scamander is sent there with a task, he realizes not all is as it seems... it's worse.





	Who Will Forgive Us?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy, happy Halloween! Here is a surprise fic I wrote just for you guys. You're in for a... I don't even know. I have no clue what I just wrote.

Newt had been told to stay away from the Goldstein manor for as long as he could remember. It was a grandeur home, centuries old and hidden by a forest of trees that had long since died. What drew the community away from it wasn’t it’s appearance, no, it was the stories of the family that had lived there.

Rumors had floated around like restless spirits, each one worse than the last. The town believed the family had descended from a long line of witches, dating all the way back to the Salem Witch Trials in 1693. When the eldest of the Goldsteins mysteriously died ten years prior, gossip spread throughout. Some said they died of an illness; others said it was a failed ritual, and the worst of all said it was their two daughters that had done it. Newt was fresh out of school and on his way to university, so he didn’t give much thought on the passing. It was codswallop, not worth his time. However, when Newt was assigned to go to their place to collect their unpaid taxes, he couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver go up his spine. 

“You want me to go there?” His tone was cold and clipped as he spoke, smothered in disbelief. “I thought it’d been abandoned months before I got back from the war.”

His boss, Percival Graves, simply scoffed. “Am I correct in assuming you were misled, Mr. Scamander? Word has it the two sisters who croaked their ma and pa still live in that house. Nonsense, I say. If the two girls were still there, they would’ve stirred up some trouble already.”

“Unless they’re in hiding,” Newt said lowly, shuffling through the stacks of paper that Graves had assigned him to do. “I don’t see why I’m still doing tax work, you know I’ve got my degree in-”

“In zoology, yes, I’m aware. But there are simply no jobs that adhere to your interests. If you truly wish to pursue your passions, you must travel. It’s no secret that you’re dying to, Newt, but the simple matter is that there just isn’t enough money for you to go yet. And there won’t be for a long time.” Graves stood up as Newt began to protest, shaking his head and pushing the stack of papers closer to Newt, who was looking at them with an expression of disdain. “I know what you’re thinking. Just… go to the house, get the money, and get the hell out of there. You can do just that.” He walked out of the room with a nod, leaving Newt all by his lonesome. Newt huffed, shooting a few specks of dust in the air that twirled and danced around until the sunlight claimed them and they could no longer be seen,

+

The drive to the home wasn’t too long, but the anticipation Newt felt as the driver wound up the winding path to the outskirts of the residence made him uneasy. The driver eyed him from the rear-view mirror, cocking his head to the side as the brakes squealed. Newt thanked him and paid him a few coins, sparing the extra change in favor of getting out of the vehicle faster. “I won’t be long,” he explained, though the driver just grunted something about not being a valet service in response. Newt exited the car, ducking his head as the door slammed and the driver sped off. “Oh, come on!” He said in exasperation, his case flinging upward as he raised his arms in annoyance. “It can’t be that bad.” However, when Newt looked up and took in the big expanse of the house, barely visible through the clustered trees in front of it, an unsettling feeling of _something not right_ spread through him. He gulped, making his way up the beaten path and ignoring the feeling that lingered behind him. Newt treaded carefully, his footsteps fluid and soft as the house came into view.

It was magnificent.

The house itself was old and had definitely had its fair share of weathering over the years, but that didn’t take away from the simple complexity of the home. It stood three stories high and was covered in white bricks, large, dusty windows taking up most of the exterior. The deck was large and long pillars made of quartz rose to hold a balcony that was lined by a fence of twisted, black metal. The house was lined in unclipped shrubbery, the lush, green color nearly an eyesore against the monochrome tone of the rest of the area. Leaves crunched under Newt’s feet as he walked, and he rejoiced in the simple comfort of a sound he was used to. The rest of the earth was still around him. Newt shivered as he climbed one step, the flooring groaning with the weight of his foot. Everything seemed to tense at the sound, and Newt chose to ignore the whoosh of something white he saw through the reflection in a window. He stepped on the remaining few steps carefully, light enough not to elicit anymore of the dreaded sound. A sizable door stood in front of him, huge and lined with black swirls that seemed to radiate a feeling of _livelihood_. Newt raised his hand, poised to knock, he took it to the door and-

_Bang!_

A loud noise behind him made him yell out in fright, but when he turned around there was nothing there. Newt steadied himself, his chest thumping wildly before flexing his hand in and out of a fist. _Get a hold of yourself, Newton. It was probably an old tree falling._

In his haste, he hadn’t noted the sound of a young woman laughing.

Newt raised his fist again and brought it to the door, biting his lip as the seconds ticked by. A moment past, then two, then three. Newt turned to leave before the door burst open, sending him into another fit of fright, before a soft, comforting sound came from the woman who’d opened the door. “Who are you?” She asked, her voice smooth as she spoke. Newt struggled to answer, in fact he didn’t, so the woman grew more frustrated, furrowing her brow. “Who are you?”

Newt looked up at the woman then, struggling to pick himself up from the ground and busying himself in dusting the dirt off of his case. He ruffled his hand through his hair; a subconscious act. “Newt Scamander,” he replied. His voice shook before he took in the woman’s appearance. She was tall- as tall as him, even- though she was wearing a pair of heels as dark as midnight. Her dress was made of a thick, black silk and covered most of her body, save for her calves. Ebony hair was curled and parted to the side, a golden decal pinned in the back to hold a cluster of hair up and away. A deep shade of rouge covered her lips, a sly smile plastered on them as she held out a ghostly, well-manicured hand.

“Hello, Mr. Scamander,” The woman said to him, her eyes dark in the sunlight. Her fingers were cold as they wrapped around Newt’s hand, causing him to jolt away from her touch before grabbing onto her firmly, her strength hoisting him up easily. Her skin was soft. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Newt, too captivated by her beauty, failed at his words as he struggled to speak. She laughed when he stuttered, a twinkling, joyous giggle that was pure heaven to his ears. “I see. Perhaps my sister will have to get it out of you.” Her smile faded quickly after saying that, her hand releasing his and going to rest on her wrist as she stepped back. She swallowed, and Newt noted the click in her throat. “You can come in,” she said quietly, sidestepping to allow him room to walk into the expansive house. Her hand was pale against the black outline of the door, her dress swaying in the wind as she moved. Newt began to shake his head, though with a whisper of wind he stopped, finding himself stepping into the drawing room. The woman shut the door behind him and it rattled like old, disassembled bones. She walked around him as he drank in the interior, the house strangely warm compared to the feeling of her hands. Newt watched as she seemed to float around the room, her movements light as her hands skimmed the furniture she passed. “We rarely have visitors,” she said suddenly, her dark eyes taking in Newt’s features. Drawing him, compelling him. _Beckoning_ him. “In fact…” The woman drawled for a few seconds, strutting toward him. She was tantalizingly close when she spoke again. “...you’re the first in ages.” 

A shiver ran down Newt’s spine, and he had the sudden urge to run away. He cleared his throat, taking in the interior of the room. Long, winding red curtains hung and covered the windows, though enough light was strewn through them to naturally light the room, save for a few candles and a fire in the grand fireplace that sat in the middle of the room. The woman draped herself over the back of a sitting chair, the plush top of the cushion sinking as she folded her arms over it, her eyes still on Newt. “I can’t see why,” Newt said, his mouth dry as he spoke. He was unable to look this woman in the eyes. It was as if she were a force above him; above humanity. As if he were intruding on something he shouldn’t have. “I’ve come to, erm… collect your taxes.” Newt lifted his case in example. Tina looked down and sighed at the statement, standing up and turning around. She pulled around at her fingers for a few moments, clenching them and closing her eyes as her joints cracked in unison.

Her voice rang through the room. “Were you afraid to come here?” She questioned, busying herself in rearranging the dishes that hung low from the counter above her. Newt shook his head, though the woman couldn’t see it. Newt watched her, his eyes taking in the large expanse of her back that the dress revealed. “Everyone always is. They say we killed our parents. They think of us as witches,” She mused to no one in particular, three plates drifting down within her fingertips. 

“And they’re not wrong.” A drafty, ice-cold voice came from behind the two. “Well, with the parents part they are.” Newt turned around to face a blonde woman, presumably the brunette’s sister. She was wearing a longer plaid dress with a shawl the color of a monotone pink folded over her shoulders. Her eyes were shadowed, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. She strolled over to her sister and she, to, seemed to be floating, though she couldn’t be because the click-clack of her ebony heels against the wooden floor was deafening. “Who is this?” She hissed under her breath, violet eyes questioning as she watched him from afar. “You remember what happened last time. We had to…”

“Queenie, this is Mr. Scamander. He’s visiting for our… taxes.” The two women shared a knowing glance, the brunette shaking her head slightly, and it took all of Newt’s will to not ask what their look meant. 

Queenie simply smiled tightly at Newt, harrumphing as she passed him. Newt gasped as she raised her hands and the plates followed with her, filling up with food. She paid extra attention to the one she set in front of Newt, who was flustured at the impossible act she’d just commited. “Witchcraft,” Queenie explained, her voice floating through the air as her sister watched her, a disappointed look on her face. “It’s rude to stare, Mr. Scamander. Close your mouth and eat your supper. I’m sure Tina has plenty to tell you about our taxes.”

_Tina_. So that was the brunette’s name. Newt couldn’t help but replay her name over and over in his head, realizing it was the perfect fit for a woman as beautiful as her. He looked over to her to find that she was blushing, the chair she pulled out scraping against the wooden floor before she sat don, eyeing the plate with unknown foods on it before shifting her gaze to meet his. She lifted an eyebrow, and Newt realized his mouth was open again. He hastily shut it, dropping his gaze to the plate that was sat in front of him. He cleared his throat before turning to face the younger sister. “I have all the paperwork in my case, after the meal I can retrieve it and help you fill out the documents. It’s easy work.”

“Indeed,” the witch agreed, shoving a piece of meat into her mouth. Tina was watching the two of them, her hands folded on the table. She wasn’t touching her food. “So what do you do, Mr. Scamander?”

Newt set his fork down, abandoning the bite of food he was about to take in favor of answering the sister’s question. “I study animals, mostly. I quite enjoy the study of endangered creatures. I’m just doing simple jobs around the village in order to make enough money for my travels.”

“You travel?” Tina asked with a small smile, growing interested in the conversation. “Is that why you have the, uh, accent?”

Newt burst out laughing, a deep booming laugh. Tina chuckled too, and Newt’s heart nearly burst at the angelic sound she made. “Yes, I presume that’s why I have the accent. I grew up here, in America, but my parents were British-born. I traveled back for university, but after they needed me for the war I had to stay here. I’m just hoping for a way out soon. My friend Leta, she lives in England still. I’m hoping to reconnect with her before she marries my brother.”

Tina nodded at that, promptly ignoring her sister’s teasing glances. “I hope to travel one day,” she said, her eyes trained on Queenie, who was busy cleaning up the dishes and waving her hands in the air, extinguishing and lighting candles around the room. Tina stood up and held out her hand to Newt, who took it without a second thought. It was warm, now.

They walked into the drawing room together, sharing private glances and small smiles. Newt was baffled at how quickly this woman had attracted him. It was as if she’d put a spell on him… Newt shook off the thought. The two chatted for a few hours, the space between them becoming smaller and smaller until they were almost touching, Queenie observing them from afar. Newt was nearly love-drunk with laughter when he said, “I find your presence preferably enjoyable, Ms. Goldstein, and if I was a proper man I would ask you on a date in more of a formal way.”

Queenie sidestepped into the room as Newt said so, and the smile on Tina’s face dropped before she began to shake her head slightly. “Mr. Scamander, how dare you ask a lady on a date before even having dessert? I swear, you Brits have no manners!” This was delivered with such dry sarcasm Newt had to laugh, but Tina shot him an anxious look and he stopped. “Tina, I’m going to go clean up for the treat. I say you get our guest _ready_ , don’t you think?”

Tina began to hyperventilate as her sister left the room, her eyes trained on the brunette hair of the eldest Goldstein. She was shaking her head violently by the time Queenie had gone, tears prickling in the back of her eyes as her hands shook, enveloped in Newt’s warmth. “Not again, it’s not time,” she whispered, her hands held out in front of her as she watched them react.

“Tina? Are you alright?” Newt asked, more concerned with her predicament than the premise of dessert. “What’s the matter, dear?” He cupped her face with one hand, his eyebrows pressed together as he looked at her in worry.

She looked up at him, dread spreading throughout her being. Her face radiated that. “You have to go,” Tina said quietly, though her voice was higher than usual. “You have to get out of here. I’ll cause a distraction, and when she’s with me you run. Do you hear me?”

“I don’t understand, what do you mea-”

Tina pressed a finger to Newt’s lips, silencing him in her haste. “Shh, you mustn’t alert her. She’s already on the prowl for you. It doesn’t help that your thoughts are as loud as dickens in here. But you must go, if you want to live. I promise I’ll explain everything, but you have got to get out of here. I won’t be able to live with myself if she gets you, too.” Tina was teary-eyed by the time she finished speaking, cupping Newt’s cheeks and constantly looking at the door. At his look, she huffed. “Listen, things aren’t all as they seem. You have to get out of town, too, Newt. I don’t know who sent you here, but you weren’t supposed to come. I’ll be damned if she’s managed to find others like her in this wretched town. You need to leave, Newt. You need to leave now. I can only protect you for so long. I can’t hold her off if she tries to get you. I’ve tried, oh, I’ve tried so many _fucking_ times to stop her, Newt, but I can’t. She’s grown too powerful. I never should’ve let her fall for Jacob, I never should’ve let her…” Tina trailed off, her words bubbling into incoherent sobs as she slumped against the wall. She cried and cried until her sobs faded to hiccups, which faded to sniffs, which faded to nothing before sheer anger took the place of her grief. “We knew he was going to die. I knew there was no way to save him, but I let her look after him for all those months. I let her get attached to him. I failed her as his body failed him. And when he… when he passed, she grew so angry. She turned to the black witches. They… they promised her they’d bring him back, but with a price. They told her they would bring him back if she gave up a piece of her soul. They made her a hollow, bitter, empty person full of despair. Jacob came back, but he wasn’t the same. He belonged on the other side. And Queenie… in her damaged state, she performed a ritual of some kind of satanity I don’t even understand to restore him. It didn’t work, but it awoke something in this house, and it’s been feeding through her ever since. I tried to escape, because Queenie is not Queenie anymore, but he… or it… or whatever is here has cursed me. If I step foot outside of this house, I begin to…” Tina shifted to meet his gaze, her eyes rimmed with red and black marks streaking down her face. She rolled up the sleeve of her dress, the silk climbing up her creamy skin before revealing an expanse of gnarled, pink flesh. Newt tried not to grimace, but the sight of her ailment was too much to bear. A single tear dropped down her face as she stared at her injured limb. “I begin to burn. I’m trapped here. That’s why you have to go. I’m so sorry Newt, I’m so sorry I brought you here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I knew once she sensed your presence I couldn’t let you leave. I’m so sorry. There’s-there’s a window in the cellar, if you get through there you can run through the trees and get out. Once you’re at the edge of the trees you’ll be free. Please, Newt, get out of here, or God have mercy on your soul.” Tina looked at him then and, against her better judgement, pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was gentle and warm, a somber closeness settling between the two. She lingered, her lips pressed against him for a moment, before pulling away and looking him in the eyes. Brown met green and clashed. “Maybe we’ll meet in another life, and things could be different,” she whispered before disappearing into a whirlwind of black smoke and dust. 

The panic that had slowly begun to seep in at Tina’s story hit Newt full-force, and he scrambled to stand up as he looked around for the latch that pulled up and led to the cellar. He tore through the room, pushing furniture, overturning rugs, and throwing books before he found the small string that pulled up to reveal an underground haven. Newt heaved as he pulled it up and out, jumping into the small expanse of space before the trapdoor shut, enveloping him in a darkness not unlike the silk of Tina’s dress.

A flicker of light burst in the room and Newt rushed over to it, reaching for something to garner it with. A draft of cool air sent shivers up his spine, and he tensed when a familiar, cold voice began to speak. _I see you’ve found my sister’s hideout_ , the voice said in his head, and Newt blindly swatted at his hair to stop the piercing headache that was beginning to form. _She never was good at keeping secrets from me. Of course, once I consumed the blood of those No-Majs and the dark witches gave me my powers, I’ve become unstoppable. You can try to escape, Newt- The man, who had begun making a stumble-run down the corridor, stopped in his tracks. But you will not succeed. My sister hasn’t the slightest clue that I know where you are. She’ll cry when she finds your body mangled and ruined with sin, but she has no power over me._

Queenie’s voice stopped almost as abruptly as the fire in the candle went out. Newt’s heart was beating in his ears, speeding up until his breath caught in his throat. A distant wind blew through, and Newt could see the reflection of the sunlight on the window that lay metres away from him. It would only take a few minutes walk-

Frantic footsteps came from the hall in front of him, and the world began to shake as Newt’s mind began to reel. A white light shone next to the figure, and Newt breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a familiar head of brunette hair. “Newt!” Came Tina’s voice, thought it was higher and out of breath. “I couldn’t find her until now, I saw her in the corridor and I stopped her. She was going to kill you. I’m glad she didn’t.” Tina pressed her lips to Newt’s, but this time they were cold. Newt felt a steady rumble flow throughout his body. Something wasn’t right.

“I need to go,” Newt said, his voice shaking. He tried to get Tina to look at him, but she kept avoiding his gaze. “I’ve got to get out of here, Queenie is still-”

“Oh, nevermind her, she’s taken care of,” Tina said, her hands still cupping Newt’s cheek. Newt shook his head, fighting to break free of her grasp. She didn’t budge.

“Tina, truthfully, I must go, it’s not safe for me here-”

“Everything is fine,” Tina muttered, her teeth clenched. Newt fought against her, fiannly ripping himself free from her grasp. When she looked at him again, Newt began to run.

Her eyes were violet. 

+

Newt was never able to recall how he’d made it out of there alive. When he’d begun to run, the woman had exploded into an item of dark magic, swirling and screaming as everything around her was destroyed. Newt ran as quickly as he could, stumbling on fallen rocks before he unlatched the window and, impossibly, climbed through the sliver of space it provided. The leaves crunched under his boots as he ran, the black accumulation swarming after him. It had slowed, though, once he’d gotten out of the home. Her magic wasn’t as strong then. But, as Newt reached the outskirts of the forest, a warm whisper was sent down his spine. 

“ _Thank you._ ”

+

Nobody knew what had happened at the Goldstein residence, or what had become of Newt Scamander. He had, for all anyone knew, disappeared into thin air. His apartment had been raided through and there was no sign of him ever living in the small city. The Goldstein manor had been burnt down to a crisp, and inside the cellar the local police had found what had become of the elder Goldsteins. 

They had been murdered by their eldest daughter, Porpentina. 

Queenie was the lone survivor of the fire. She’d been found cradling a tiny object no one dared take a closer look at, wailing about her sister and everything she’d done. About how she was finally free of her sister’s evil grasp, no longer a menace to society. The black magic her sister had once practiced had now sufficed, and the youngest Goldstein was forgiven for her family’s sins. 

The smile of a killer had never looked so bright.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I don't know what I just wrote. It was my first time trying something within the paranormal/horror genres, so bear with me. Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are very appreciated, as is CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.
> 
> I am very aware some of the dialogue is quite out of character, but for the sake of this fic and the tone I was looking for, I went with it. I hope it was... decent, at least. And the end is supposed to be that way! Tina is framed by Queenie, who... well, you'd be correct in assuming that after the events of this story things only get worse. Oh well! (Also, evil! Queenie is SO fun to write).
> 
> Once more, thank you for reading!


End file.
